Monthly Archives: March 2001

03.28.01 – Reno, NV

We almost drove straight from State College Pennsylvania to San Francisco California without stopping, but we were sucked in by the bright lights, succulent buffets, and skanky prostitutes of Reno Nevada just a few hours short of our ultimate destination. The lights were brilliant, the buffets were all-you-can-eat, and the whores were apparently on the side of the tracks we never crossed. But we did find many places in which to partake in “gambling,” another morally suspect activity that is illegal except in Nevada and that leaves you feeling empty when it’s through. Always double down on an eleven. Always. Here are some photos:

The Flamingo Casino, home of a lot of Pasty’s money and bouncers who won’t let you bring a digital camera inside.

Our new merchandise girl, Jamie Silvers (forefront right), wonders why she’s spending her 23rd birthday hanging out at The National Bowling Stadium in Reno Nevada.

Motel.

Adam’s ankle seems to be turning a nice dark purple color while the swelling has moved towards the top of the foot. “American Movie” is strategically placed next to his ankle because it is a fine fine documentary which comes highly recommended from the members of Guster.

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03.25.01 – Muhlenberg, Germany

Very strange to return to the bus after three months off. To return to sleeping at 70 miles an hour. Can’t think of too many jobs where people are transported in their sleep. Astronauts. Astronauts are like rock and roll musicians in lots of ways I imagine. So this happened today on the racquetball courts at Muhlenberg College:

It’s Adam’s ankle and it’s sprained. The one on the left. The one that is twice the size of the other one. Adam hobbled on stage on crutches tonight and actually sat in a chair during most of the set, which I believe is unprecedented. It is worth noting that when Adam collapsed behind me on the racquetball court today I knew he’d hurt himself but I made sure to win the point before I went over to check on him. Supposedly someone at the school is emailing me pictures of Adam surrounded by Muhlenberg EMT people.

We debuted two new songs tonight — “Ramona Lisa” and “New Song #2” (yes, working titles)… they were sloppy, like most of our debuts are. I vaguely recall introducing “Melanie” at 7 Willow St in Portchester several years ago and it being quite a trainwreck. I think we left some rust behind in the Muhlenberg Gymnasium tonight. No need to bring that shit to State College.

Adam’s medical report:
Sprained ankle. Ice often. Keep elevated. Do not put pressure on ankle. Should take six weeks to heal, which just happens to be the length of our tour. Fun prescription painkillers to share with the rest of the bus: None.

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03.14.01

That was a fucken nightmare. You know, your website goes down and you expect the problem to fix itself within an hour or two like it usually does and the next thing you know seven weeks have gone by and it’s still down. Meanwhile there’s a woman holding your mailing list and website information hostage and she’s changed all her phone numbers, she’s dyed her hair a different color, she’s making a dash for the border …

Getting Guster Dot Com back online and operational required some pretty outlandish maneuvering, and one would be naive to think that recent natural disasters in Asia, suspicious resignations in the White House, and the extraordinary size of our guest list at the Fillmore in SF are not all somehow tied in.

It appears a few things have changed since I last contributed something to this diary.

1.) You now have to pay for Napster? Oh well, nevermind my last entry.

2.) There’s some photo at the top of every road journal? Featuring my ass? Loyal readers have already seen that thing in the flesh. They don’t need it hovering above each and every entry.

3.) The Gusters have written a batch of new songs. Most are in a mangled state, missing choruses here and there, needing some divine intervention to give us a clue how to translate it live, etc… we should have a few in working condition by the time our spring tour rolls around.

For those of you who have been awaiting a progress report on my ant farm, only four of the original fifteen are still alive. The rest died, and have been neatly stacked in a corner by the living ones, who seem to enjoy spending their days schlepping the corpses around on their backs. It is all quite depressing. I will take a picture of the stack of dead ones and try to upload it with my next entry. It is good to be back. Thanks for your patience, everyone.

Bri

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